


A Gift of Roses

by TheWeaverofWorlds



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Boys Kissing, Cute, Flashbacks, Hate to Love, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Piningjolras, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 13:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6007792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeaverofWorlds/pseuds/TheWeaverofWorlds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Corinth is a flower shop in Paris that is always busy on Valentine's Day. Enjolras is determined to find something for his boyfriend, and although he is poor, he knows he wants to buy roses. The owner starts to chat with him about his relationship with the love of his life. It's a funny story, with loud singing, an irritated Enj, pining, one hell of a drunk kiss, and an unexpected love confession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gift of Roses

The little flower shop was filled to the brim with people chatting, milling about and selecting roses or carnations for their significant other. In and around their legs wove an orange tabby, clearly the pet of the owner. It was Valentine's Day eve, thus explaining the crowd, as Valentine's Day is to flower shops what Christmas day is to any other store. The line was already long, and Enjolras began to question if the Corinth was really the only flower shop in his neighborhood...it was. And if it weren't the others would be just as crowded. And so he walked around the cozy little shop until he found the perfect bouquet of red roses. Their color was a deep, currant red and the petals opened in the most becoming way. It wasn't the showiest arrangement, nor the biggest, or the most colorful, but it suited his lover. And it was all he could afford, barely. 

 

Ever since he and R had moved to Paris after college they had been living a cheap lifestyle. Neither of them were making as much as they had imagined, and utilities and rent were catching up to them. Therefore Grantaire had insisted that Enjolras not do anything showy this year for Valentine's Day, but the blond was stubborn if anything. Grantaire had already done so much for him, that he wanted to buy something to show the other his appreciation and love. Whenever they had passed by the Corinth, Grantaire had always eyed the flowers longingly, not daring to say anything. Flowers were just something they couldn't afford right now.

 

And so Enjolras was determined to buy the prettiest bunch he could. Yes, they may die in a few days time...but the happiness they would bring to his lover was well worth it. As he made his way into the line to have them wrapped up and paid for he began to hum under his breath. At first he barely recognized the tune, and wondered how he could hum a song he didn't know. But then he realized that it was the song that Grantaire whistled or hummed whenever he thought he was alone. What had he called it? Musetta's Waltz? Yeah that must be it because Enjolras remembers laughing at how similar the name was to their own dear Musichetta's. He continued to hum the refrain he knew until he made it to the front of the line. There an old woman stood, the proprietress of the shop, with a knowing smile. She looked older than anyone Enjolras had met, but there was a twinkle to her eye, and a vivacity that he wasn't expecting. Her long white hair was tied back into a style that looked like it belonged in the 19th century, her blue eyes bright with life.

 

“Lovely song, Puccini, I believe” she sighed. “Lovely flowers too. I see you chose the 'Ingrid Bergmans'. Pride of my garden. Your girlfriend must be lucky to have you.”

 

The shopkeeper took the flowers from his hands and began cut the long stems down to size.

 

Enjolras blushed a little, “boyfriend, actually.”

 

The woman's smile widened, the wrinkles around her eyes crinkling. “My, aren't you the sweetest. What's his name?”

 

“Grantaire,” Enjolras sighed the name reverently.

 

“And how long have you been together?” She had finished trimming the stems and began to reach for some brown paper.

 

“Four years,” confessed Enjolras, leaning against the counter, “but I've known him since I was a sophomore in college.”

 

The woman nodded, “how did you meet?”

 

Enjolras blushed. It was a rather unfortunate first meeting, one that probably shouldn't have led to the outcome it had...and yet he wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

 

-

 

It was Enjolras' second year of college, and due to some construction or something, he had been temporarily moved from his old dorm to one across the campus. Although this caused some inconvenience for getting to class, it did manage to ease his commute to visit some of his friends. Courfeyrac and Jehan lived in Hugo Hall, which was much closer to Enjolras' new home, because it meant they were closer to the school's theatre building. His first few weeks had been uneventful, as he learned to deal with Courfeyrac's more dramatic friends. They were given to burst out into song, filling the halls with whatever musical theatre they were currently obsessed with. It was a bit of a culture shock...his old dorms had mostly been filled with Poli-Sci majors and History majors, but it wasn't so bad. That was until the day he was trying to finish a very important paper for his ethics class.

 

Enjolras was in his room when he heard loud music coming from down the hall. The thumping bass and keening wailing guitar shook the dorm walls. That would have been annoying in its own right, had it not been accompanied by the loud belting voice of a grown man. Now to be fair, this man had a very nice voice, it was just majorly distracting.

 

With a huff Enjolras rose, and padded down the carpeted hall until he got to the room where the music was coming from. He knocked, more like pounded, on the door yelling to be heard over the electric guitar. “Do you mind some of us are trying to work!?”

 

The door opened mid knock to reveal a striking man, perhaps a little shorter than him, with dark curls. He looked Enjolras up and down, his eyebrows were quirked and his lips pouted. “What makes you think I'm not?”

 

Enjolras huffed. “Could you keep it down-”

 

“I'm practicing,” explained the brunet, before closing the door on Enjolras' face. The blond let out a screech in frustration, before knocking on the door again. It opened. “Why are you still here?”

 

“I'm trying to write a paper,” Enjolras gestured behind him, “whatever you're practicing...can't you do it more quietly?”

 

The brunet's brow furrowed. “Look, Blondie, I've been living here for a long time and no one's really complained all that much. This hall has a tacit-” Enjolras snorted at the word, “- agreement that whenever we need to rehearse loudly, people deal, and the courtesy will be returned.”

 

“But I never agreed to that tacitly or-”

 

“Can't really help you then,” the man sounded exasperated and bored all at once. “Course you could always try earplugs.”

 

“Please, just-”

 

“Look, I'm waiting for a friend.” The door slammed.

 

Enjolras kicked it and wondered if the library was still open.

 

“Enjolras? Why are you kicking Grantaire's door?” Enjolras' eyes widened as he turned to see who was addressing him. It was none other than Courfeyrac.

 

“You're the friend he's waiting for?”

 

“You talked to him? Never mind. Yeah. We're rehearsing one of the duets for the musical,” Courfeyrac explained. Now that he mentioned it, Enjolras did have some vague memory of the mention of this musical. Courfeyrac had seemed pretty excited that he had gotten the part of...Mark? Enjolras wasn't really sure, but had been supportive none the less.

 

“Well can you see if you guys could maybe keep it down? I've got a paper,” Enjolras explained sheepishly.

 

Courfeyrac nodded. “Of course. And hey, sorry if R said anything offensive. He probably didn't know how to respond when someone came to ask him to shut up. You should meet him after the show, I think you two have a lot in common.”

 

Enjolras nodded, he wasn't quite sure what to make of the brunet. He was attractive, for sure, but his manners were less than desiring...or so he had initially thought.

 

-

 

“And?” asked the old woman.

 

Enjolras flushed realizing how long he had been talking. “What?”

 

“Did you meet him after the show?”

 

“Yeah I did. After that whole incident I tried to keep my distance as much as possible, but Courf insisted we go out to drinks opening night and R was there. He played this really intense, attractive character in the musical...so I thought I might give him a second chance. Let's just say things didn't go so well,” Enjolras laughed scratching the back of his head.

 

“Tell me,” the woman smiled.

 

“Are you sure-”

 

“You are my last customer of the day,” the woman said, Enjolras turned and it was true. “I was going to close up after you left and read with my cat. This is more interesting. Please, continue your story.”

 

Enjolras nodded, a bit unsure, but happily he continued. “So we went out for drinks after the performance...”

 

-

 

The bar was crowded, and Enjolras found himself squished between the actress who played Mimi and Courfeyrac. The latter was talking to his boyfriend, Combeferre, and the girl was chatting to her friends. Across the table sat Grantaire who was laughing at something the girl was saying, adding his own version of the anecdote to hers. When the laughter had died down, Enjolras looked over at the brunet before saying, “I wanted to apologize about coming to yell at you. I could have handled it better...but you were great on stage tonight. All that rehearsal paid off.” Internally he cringed a bit at what he had said.

 

Grantaire smiled, and god it was even more stunning up close. “Thank you. I'm glad you liked the show.”

 

Things looked like they were headed in the right direction, until someone had decided to bring up the healthcare system. All of a sudden Enjolras and Grantaire were having a heated debate, and neither was really sure how it had started. The more drunk they both got, the more intense it became.

 

They had drifted a little away from the rest of the group, towards a darkened corner. And just as Grantaire began making another point, one that Enjolras was pretty sure not even he could argue against, the blond leaned in and kissed him. It was messy and raging, as both men fought for dominance. Grantaire grabbed a hold of Enjolras' coat, and he was pushed against the wall. The brunet was winning, and Enjolras couldn't accept that. He shoved his leg between the shorter man's and began to apply pressure. Grantaire let out a hasty groan, and Enjolras smirked using the leverage to his advantage. He gained control of the kiss, and although his lungs were begging for oxygen he refused to give up his victory so easily.

 

When they did break apart they were both panting, and it was at that moment that Courfeyrac appeared and dragged Enjolras away.

 

The next day, Enjolras had a killer hangover. He regretted ever drinking so much, and decided for the time being he would swear of alcohol.

 

-

 

“I couldn't get that damn kiss out of my mind,” laughed Enjolras. “But the next time I ran into R, turns out he barely remembered anything from that night. He remembered our argument, and kissing a stranger...but he didn't connect those two instances together. Instead I had to go through the agony of knowing how great a kisser he was without being allowed to kiss him. It was torture.”

 

The old woman chuckled. “My, my, and how long did this go on for?”

 

Enjolras shook his head, “we didn't start dating until junior year. I was pining after the idiot for a whole year. No one had seen us kiss, except Courfeyrac, but he had decided to keep his mouth shut at my insistence.”

 

“So what happened next?” 

 

“In college my friends and I got together to do plan peaceful protests, and one night he wandered in...I thought I had died.”

 

-

 

Enjolras was in the middle of his speech when Bahorel and Grantaire entered, causing him to choke on his words. It was the first time he had seen Grantaire since their drunken kiss. Almost a month had passed and Enjolras had thought maybe he could get passed this, but seeing R up close again was too much for his system. The brunet had clearly just been working out. There was a thin sheen of sweat covering his body, and his curls hung damply to his forehead. Enjolras wasn't sure if he had seen anyone looking so debauched enter his meeting befre. He wanted nothing more than to jump across the table and pin the man to the wall. Kissing him in a way he would not forget, leaving bruises along his jaw and neck, and lower – 

 

“Er, Enj?” Feuilly muttered.

 

It was then that Enjolras realized he had stopped talking. “Right. So the current plan is to start on the main campus to get signatures for our petition to the school board to create more gender neutral bathrooms.”

 

He continued the meeting as if nothing had happened, but that didn't stop his eyes from straying over to where the brunet sat. Once the meeting was over, everyone got up and began chatting eagerly about their plans for the weekend. Bahorel came up to Enjolras with Grantaire in tow.

 

“Sorry for coming in late, boxing class went later than we planned,” Bahorel explained.

 

“You box?” this was addressed to Grantaire.

 

Grantaire nodded. “Yeah. It's a good way to release stress. You're the guy I had that debate with after the musical, right.”

 

Internally Enjolras groaned. “Yeah, that's me.”

 

“This meeting is really impressive,” started Grantaire.

 

“Thanks,” Enjolras straightened up immediately.

 

“But,” continued Grantaire, “you could use some work on your recruiting. A petition? Yeah no college student is gonna want to sign a petition.”

 

“Are you-”

 

“It's dull, Blondie, no offense. And a lot of people probably don't care.” Grantaire shrugged. Bahorel casually walked away, leaving the two men on their own.

 

Enjolras grimaced. “I would like to believe-”

 

“You're an optimist then. A foolish thing to be when the world is in the state it is,” Grantaire smirked.

 

“You must be a cynic,” Enjolras replied.

 

Grantaire smirked. “Ah you have caught me, and now that you have what will you do to me?”

 

Enjolras wanted to scream, and kiss that smug look off the bastard's face. And as eloquently as he could, which wasn't very eloquent at all, he yelled, “ugh. You're insufferable you know that?”

 

Grantaire's smirk blossomed into a grin, “Oh we'll be having a lot of fun, you and I. See you later, Blondie.”

 

-

 

“I tried to forget him after that meeting. I was stupid enough to think it was a one time thing, but then I realized that we were friends with all the same people. He began showing up to every rally, meeting, or party I went to. I was miserable,” confessed Enjolras.

 

The woman laughed, her cat jumped onto the counter, settling between them “Young love is truly something. Was it at one of your meetings that you finally asked him out?”

 

Enjolras shook his head, a warm smile gracing his lips. “It's funny. As I was in perdition, so was he. After the fact he has told me that he had liked me ever since I had pounded on his door. We were just too stupid to realize it at the time...”

 

The woman's eyes filled with mirth. “Oh?”

 

Enjolras grinned like a loon. “It was after one of those meetings.”

 

-

 

Enjolras sat in the empty cafe. It was late, and the meeting was long over. He was feeling low, the previous rally hadn't gone too well. Everyone had been disheartened, and it hadn't helped that Grantaire hadn't shown up. The brunet was a pain in the ass, but it was still nice to see him. Enjolras considered trying the cynic's tactic of getting drunk to ignore his pain, but as he was reaching for the bottle the bell over the door rang. And in stepped Grantaire. He looked wet as hell, as it was pouring out. But he still had a soft smile on his face.

 

“Hey,” R said softly.

 

Enjolras looked up. “Meetings over.”

 

“I know. Joly texted me saying you might still be here. He said things weren't so great?” Grantaire asked, coming to kneel in front of him. Once again, Enjolras was stunned by how pelagic R's eyes were. Quickly he looked away.

 

“Please, stop. You've always had a perspicacity to find me at my worst. I think I would just like to be alone.” Enjolras sighed.

 

Grantaire's eyes widened. “No. That's not it at all. You're my friend, Enjolras, I'm concerned for you.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Enjolras, is there something I have done? Something I have said that has wounded you so?” Grantaire laid his hand on Enjolras' own.

 

The blond leaned into the other's touch as if it was the most natural thing to do. He let out a sigh he didn't know he had been holding. “I think I'm a little in love with you,” he confessed.

 

“This is not a ruse, some joke you have come up with to make you feel better?”

 

“No.”

 

“But how?”

 

“I think it was the night we kissed.”

 

Grantaire's brows furrowed. He was about to say they had never kissed, but then he remembered that drunken night over a year ago. “Sophomore year after Rent, that was you?”

 

Enjolras' eyes were downcast. Almost inaudibly he replied, “yes.”

 

“And I've forgotten it was you all this time,” breathed Grantaire.

 

“Yes.”

 

Grantaire looked down before looking up again. “For that I am sorry, but do you mind if we try again?”

 

Enjolras looked at the brunet, cocking his head in confusion.

 

“I won't forget this time, I promise,” assured R.

 

“If this is out of pity-”

 

“Not in the slightest, I have been interested in you since you came like a petulant child to my door.” Grantaire confessed.

 

“But all those things you have said at meetings?”

 

“I may not believe in your causes, but I believe in you. I have been playing devil's advocate for so long, I have forgotten what it is like to be on the side of the angels.”

 

Enjolras could feel tears welling up, he leaned over and kissed Grantaire. The brunet moved his hand off Enjolras' and placed it on the other's neck. His fingers wove in gently to touch tousled curls, his mouth moving slowly...patiently.

 

The kiss was chaste, the opposite of their first. And it was more intense. Neither man was drunk, or angry, both had found an equanimity that had been missing for a long time. As they broke a part, Grantaire rested his forehead on Enjolras'.

 

“Go out with me. On a proper date?”

 

“I'd like that. I'd like that a lot,” Enjolras whispered, before capturing the brunet's lips with his own.

 

-

 

“Our friends were so happy when we announced that we were dating,” Enjolras smiled, “but secretly I think they were relieved that they wouldn't have to deal with our pining anymore.”

 

The woman smiled, her cat purring under her touch. “That is a lovely story. I am glad you got it to work out.”

 

Enjolras blushed, he realized how long he was keeping the woman. “I am sorry I've been talking so long. How much for the flowers?”

 

“For you, no charge. Your story was payment enough,” the woman grinned, taking her cat in her arms, before walking him to the door.

 

Enjolras held them gently, “I couldn't.”

 

“I insist. These days everyone is in such a rush, they've got better things to do than tell stories to old women, but you shared everything so generously. You deserve some generosity in kind, I hope your young man enjoys the flowers.” She said taking his hand in hers.

 

Enjolras thanked her once more before realizing, “I never asked you your name.”

 

“Patria,” she replied warmly, before gesturing to her cat, “and this is Bonaparte.”

 

“Thank you, Patria.” Enjolras gave a slight bow. She smiled warmly at him.

 

He turned to go, when she called out cheekily, “Come back when you want the flowers done for the wedding”

 

Enjolras blushed bright red….but in a year's time he did just that.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of notes for this fic:  
> -Musetta's Waltz is from Puccini's La Boheme (it's beautiful, you should listen to it.  
> -Ingrid Bergman is a real flower, named for the actress, and they (both I guess) are hella gorgeous  
> -Courf and R are in Rent (which is based on La Boheme) and I imagine Eponine as Mimi and R is obvi Roger  
> -Thanks to Caterina for giving Patria's kitty a name  
> -I headcanon Patria as being the personified spirit of France who likes to secretly run a flower shop and check in on her citizens...idk maybe just me
> 
> Finally happy Valentine's Day. I hope you enjoy this fic, sorry for errors or confusing b/c of time skips. I tried my best. Please leave a kudos or comment, y'all are the best! Lots of Love ~T.W.o.W.


End file.
